


23

by Disloyal_Order_Of_Water_Buffaloes



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, i hope this makes sense, other rt and nonrt members
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 19:45:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6128057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Disloyal_Order_Of_Water_Buffaloes/pseuds/Disloyal_Order_Of_Water_Buffaloes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray was finally warming up to the others. He'd help Michael with bombs, he'd laugh genuinely at Gavin’s stupid questions, he'd toast his Capri Sun to Ryan’s Diet Coke after a heist, talk to Jack about good books to read (yes, Ray did read, thank you very much. If nothing else, it's help him with his English), and he'd help Geoff plan heists. Maybe this whole Gang thing wasn't a bad idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	23

23\. Gang attacks were common, sure, when you were in a gang. A giant guy probably weighing twice the size of Ray (maybe more, since he's had to start cutting some food to save money for a coat, because winter is on its way and he doesn't want frostbite) approached him and said he was apart of the Fake AH Crew. Ray denied it and backed up, grabbing the first thing he can—a pocket knife. More guys came behind him and he felt something hit him. Then Ray heard gun shots, but none actually hit him. He was getting too tired to care and his chest hurt _real_ fucking bad.

He thought he heard Jack, but probably was dying and hearing shit he wanted to. _God_ he missed Jack.

Then she popped out of nowhere, said something, and grabbed his face. He wasn’t sure what she said but it probably had something to do with the bullet in his torso. He got pretty fucking out of it when she picked him up and said “stay with me, bud,” and he felt his head spin more and more with each movement. Ray wasn’t exactly sure what way would send him face-first into the pavement, but he didn’t stay awake long enough to find out.

23\. What's left of the crew by now split up. They didn't really declare it, it just kind of happened.

* * *

 

22\. They don't do shit without Geoff. Jack is fucking sad but won't admit it, Ryan got even quieter and stayed out later at night, Michael’s bombs didn't work as well, Gavin was strangely _un-_ clumsy. Well, when they saw him outside of his room. Jack saw him the most, she'd bring him meals and hope that he'd eat (but he never did) and tell him that he should see this guy Geoff knew—

And she mentioned Geoff.

Fucking _Geoff_.

They didn't say much the next couple days.

22\. They're having a hard time paying for the penthouse. Basically they're living off of what's left in savings and measly gas-station robberies. Michael suggests getting an apartment that's smaller than this but can fit them. He knew it wouldn't be that much of a money saver, but he didn't want to see fucking Geoff everywhere he looked.  
  
22\. Jack walked out of the room she and Geoff shared. The guys could see the tears welling in her eyes but didn't bring it up. They couldn't remember the last time they saw her actually cry.

“He's fucking gone,” she sighed and went to pour herself a drink.

Ray wasn't sure if it was that or the contents of his stomach and blood that wanted to make him puke more.

21\. Ray kicked the bar, cursing at himself. It's his fault. He was supposed to watch. He heard the frantic talking, yelling, concern in the other room. Suddenly he couldn't breathe and everything was a blur and then Michael came into focus and Ray had a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He didn't feel very good, anywhere.

21\. Ray watched through his scope. He was the best sniper the gang could get, and he still couldn't get the guy with an automatic gun pointing at Geoff. He just _kept fucking missing_ . The guy pulled the trigger and Ray finally got him. But Geoff still fell to the pavement. Ray focused on keeping guard, trying his best to tell Lindsay and Jeremy to get the backup car, and trying his best to ignore Michael’s genuine _panic_ in his voice.

20\. Ray could conquer the fucking world. He and Gavin were out on a late night “snack run” and had gotten some pretty good treats and a few bottles of booze. They probably could've spared the pocket hangs to get these things, but where was the fun in that?

* * *

 

19.

* * *

 

18\. Ray was finally warming up to the others. He'd help Michael with bombs, he'd laugh genuinely at Gavin’s stupid questions, he'd toast his Capri Sun to Ryan’s Diet Coke after a heist, talk to Jack about good books to read (yes, Ray _did_ read, thank you very much. If nothing else, it's help him with his English), and he'd help Geoff plan heists. Maybe this whole Gang thing _wasn't_ a bad idea.

* * *

17\. Ray was in trouble. Big fucking trouble. Sure, Jack was the mom of the group. But Geoff _wasn't_ the “dad.” He shouldn't think of him that way. Little Michael and Gavin probably didn't think that way, why should he? He needed to grow the _fuck_ up. They're 15 and he's 17, but they were too engrossed in each other to really notice much else, anyway.

17\. Ray was introduced to a bunch of guys, and a woman named Jack. He didn't ask. He didn't want to get himself killed and stain the expensive-looking carpet of this penthouse with his blood.

But Jack was the nicest. She made Geoff make him food, insisting that he was so underfed that she didn't understand how he was alive. Ray had a feeling she knew what it was like before this crew or whatever. She also made a kid–he was probably about 15–named Michael go get some clothes for him. She made note that they'll take him to get new clothes soon.

17\. Ray was beat the _fuck_ up in the alley. It always ended up like this, didn't it? Broke, he had a knife and a handgun, his DS, and two fuckin dollars he found on the pavement.

A man with tattoos on his hands and nice looking clothes walked up to him, bleeding face and all. “Kid, hey, kid.” The voice actually surprised him and he looked up. Shit.

Shit shit _shit_.

That was Geoff Mother-Fucking Ramsey.

“I–I–Hey man,” he backed up into his feet into the brick wall and pointed the small gun at him. It didn't have any bullets in it and his hands were shaking but Ray hoped he didn't see. “Back the fuck up, there's nothing you want from me–”

He looked strangely exhausted and on one hand his knuckles were bleeding. He just looked at Ray, clearly unintimidated. “I won't hurt you,” he groaned and sunk against the alley wall. “Scouts honor. You're just a kid.”

“I'm–”

“I don't need to hear how old you are. You're a _kid_.” He groaned and took a cigarette out of his pocket, lighting it. “I'm 27 and I'm already too old for this shit. Don't do drugs.”

Ray just nodded, what sure to do in the presence of Geoff Ramsey.

“Hey, man,” Ray swallowed and gathered up his courage, putting his gun back in his pocket. “Do you have, like, a couple dollars or something? I'm just–I haven't eaten in a couple days and I'm fucking hungry.”

He knew that this would probably turn out badly.

* * *

 

15\. It sucked. It sucked being 15, on the streets (again) and alone (again). Ray just took the card he’d stolen from a convenience store and had written in out of his pocket and tore it up. He ripped it into as many pieces as he could and threw it into the flames.

Maybe the tears—it had to be, he was cold as fuck and it's the middle of February with only his stupid jacket—would put the fire out before the fire department got there. _If_ they ever got there.

15\. Tina, Kdin, Matt, Barb, Chris. They were gone. They were all fucking gone. He was sat outside the flaming building, secretly hoping the spot and ashes and whatever else that was on him would just catch on fire again.

The weekend before Valentine's Day always sucked, didn't it.

* * *

 

14\. The not-quite-gang of them got together very nicely. The oldest, Barb, was 17, and the youngest, Chris, was 12. Barb made sure everyone ate what was available, always putting herself last.

She _was_ the mom, no matter how many jokes they made.

14\. Ray joined a gang. He is mother had always told him not to, and he knew she was right. But no one was here with him, so who's stop him? He'd rather die from a gang attack than starvation. He met a kid called Kdin, who helped him off the street. Through him, he met Barbara, Tina, Matt, and Chris.

* * *

 

13.

12.

* * *

 

11\. Ray picked up shifts around town. Shady guys down the street and the guy out behind the diner offered him a job washing dishes. He couldn't exactly say no, since he was living outside the apartment building with a trash bag of clothes and his DS.

11\. Ray looked into the open casket. His mother wouldn't have wanted this, would she? She wouldn't want people to look at her and cry. She's want them to laugh and think of the good times they had.

So that's what Ray did. He thought about every Valentine's Day when his mother would buy him a box of chocolates, and how she'd leave for work at 8 am and get back at 7 PM, but she's still take him to the park and push him on the swings until he was so tired he fell asleep in her arms on the way back. He thought about how on Christmas, he would get a DS game, recently, and how he knew it had to of cost more than one paycheck. He'd open it right next their potted plant with homemade ornaments hung on it and his mother would look _so_ happy when he got it open and put the cartridge into the device.

He thought and he thought and he thought until someone had grabbed him by the shoulders and he realized he was sobbing and the loudest person in the room. He was also the youngest, and probably the only person that actually _gave_ a shit in why he was here.

The room was spinning and his lungs were filling with his tears and he couldn't breathe and _oh god_ what was he going to do without her? He's 11 years old. He can't do this, he can't do this.

* * *

10\. “Mama, what's wrong? You look tired,” the concerned boy sat on his mother's lap. She looked around the small dingy apartment and sighed.

“Ray, can you promise me something?” She held him tighter and took his hand. Ray nodded. “Whatever you do, whatever happens, don't join one of those nasty gangs. You're so much better than them, and I promise you don't need to. Okay?”

“Okay, Mama,” he nodded. He wasn't sure what she meant, because she wasn't going anywhere without him. But he promised anyway.

“Promise me. Promise me you'll never _ever_ do the bad things they do.”

“I promise.”

* * *

 

9.

8.

7.

* * *

 

6\. Ray wasn't sure why kids were laughing as he walked by the playground. He envied their nice looking lunches and their clean, new-looking clothes. But then he didn't really mind. He had more time to play and less things to worry about staining.

* * *

5\. This school looked nice. These kids looked so much better than him. They had nice, shiny new backpacks and clothes, pencil cases, lunch boxes, and toys. Ray had his old, tattered bad and a sandwich from whatever they had left in the fridge. These kids looked at him funny, and he wasn't sure why he was here, or his mother sent him here. Or how they lived in a one bedroom apartment and shared a bed and didn't have much food but went to this nice school.

* * *

4\. Ray had a nightmare, and cuddled further into his mother. She woke up and put an arm around him, helping him. “It's okay, _amor_ , mama’s here.”

* * *

 

3.

 

2.

 

1.

 


End file.
